


3am Break In

by grantaire_the_cynic



Series: AU Prompts [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 22:57:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grantaire_the_cynic/pseuds/grantaire_the_cynic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt from tumblr user legallyandrea.  </p><p>Someone breaks into E/R's home while R is waiting for E to get home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	3am Break In

Grantaire kicked his shoes off and flopped down onto the couch. He had spent the entire day out painting commissioned pieces for different businesses. He had walked miles around the city, looking for the perfect scenes to match the customer’s wants. By the time he got home it was nearing one in the morning. He plugged in his phone and it immediately buzzed violently.

E: Working late- article deadline tomorrow.  
E: I’ll be home after midnight.  
E: Can’t wait to see you <3  
E: I have a surprise.  
E: Are you painting?  
E: Are you alive????

 

Grantaire hastily texted Enjolras, 

 

R: Sorry phone died. was working in the field. no charger.  
R: Home now. you may or may not find me buried under a mountain of sketches.  
R: Don’t work too late. It’s Friday. <3

 

Grantaire sighed and heaved himself up. The sketches were not going to draw themselves. Plugging in his phone again, he cursed his decision to try for a spot in the art exhibit. Three weeks was not enough time.  
Grantaire jerked awake. He had charcole smudged all over his face from where he had dozed off against his sketch of a river. He had ruined the corner from drooling. He stood up, cursing as he stretched. He looked at the clock : 3:43. He heard someone moving around in the living room. “Enj?” he called out, wondering why he was awake. “If he just got home I’ll kill him.” he thought, wondering why anyone would work until a quarter to four on a Friday. He stumbled out of the room they had designated as their “office”. “Enj?” he called out again. There was a loud crash. “What in the name of Patria are you doing?!” he ran towards the sound and froze- the living room was destroyed. Two men were shoving things into a bag, loading the electronics onto a flat cart. Grantaire gaped at the scene for a few moments, stunned.

 

“What the fuck is going on here?” he yelled. The two men stopped and looked at Grantaire. One of the men dropped the blender he had swiped from the kitchen.

 

“Why the fuck are you stealing a blender?” his partner whispered. 

 

“It spoke to me, man, on a deep level.”

 

“What do we do with them?”

 

“Them? There’s only one of them, I dunno, what should we do?”

 

“Oh, I thought there were two. Let’s just get this shit and get out.”

 

“Dude, get with it- he’s not going to let us walk out of here. Let’s just, I don’t know, do something.”

 

Grantaire could not listen to anymore. He charged the first man, who seemed to be high out of his mind on something. He knocked him against the wall, wildly throwing punches. The second man joined in and, in a tangle of limbs, they scuffled for several minutes- crashing into every piece of furniture in the room. One of the men disentangled himself, but Grantaire was too focused on the man who was currently (albeit poorly) trying to choke him. Something hard hit him in the head. He staggered backwards, clutching the back of his head. Something else came flying at him. He dizzily tried to dodge it. Everything else that happened was a blur. Something hit his head again, something hit him in the back, he was on the floor, and he felt himself losing consciousness. 

 

Everything was in a fog- that point between dreams and waking. He could not open his eyes, he could not make sense of anything- where he was, if he was alive or dead. He could not even tell if he was at all. Sometimes things came in flashes- a voice, a touch, searing pain, exhaustion, but nothing lasted long enough for Grantaire to get a grasp on it.  
He felt someone touching him. Gentle hands, not the rough hands that had attacked him. Someone was talking- a familiar voice. He could not place whose voice it was, but it was familiar and soothing. He relaxed a bit, listening to the voice that seemed to speak no words, make no sense, but washed over him.  
Pain, radiating out of every nerve. He would scream if he could, but he had no control over his body. His breath was coming heavily and he was vaguely aware of sweat rolling down his face. Or was it his imagination? He could not even finish the thought before he lost consciousness completely. 

 

Finally, he awoke. He heard the sounds of something, a beeping, and finally formed a coherent thought- “open your eyes”. And he could. He opened them slowly and found a dim room. At first he could not make sense of the images in front of him- as though he had forgotten how to see. Slowly things came into focus: a tv, a cabinet, a large window- the shades closed. He felt someone holding his hand, judging by the weight next to him, they were laying on his bed. He glanced to his left and saw a few machines, not wanting to follow the tubes connected to them, knowing where they went. Glancing down, he saw Enjolras asleep next to him. He had been sitting in a chair, but had fallen asleep with his face pressed into the bed, still clinging to his hand. Grantaire groaned as he tried to move. Enjolras stirred. “hmmm, what’s....?” he looked up and suddenly jerked awake. 

 

“R! You...you’re awake! Oh thank Heavens!” he flung his arms around him (surprisingly gently for his enthusiasm) and buried his face into Grantaire’s neck.

 

“I was so worried, so scared, you were in such bad shape- you were unconscious for so long. They were saying you might not wake up.” Enjolras’ voice was muffled, and he was speaking very fast. Grantaire weakly wrapped his arms around him. 

 

“How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” Enjolras said, sitting up again. 

 

“Like hell, but I think I’ll be fine. You look like shit- when’s the last time you slept?” Grantaire said. He was studying Enjolras’ face. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes, he had not shaved in several days, his hair stuck out at weird angles, and he looked like he had not had a decent meal in several days. “You need a shower, and a shave,” Grantaire croaked, still not used to speaking. “You smell a little ripe,” he said with a small grin. Enjolras smiled slightly, gently shoving Grantaire’s leg. “Shush- I didn’t have time, I was taking care of you.”

 

Grantaire smiled and slid his hand into Enjolras’. “Thanks, but I’m sure the doctors could handle me for an hour while you showered and ate. Tell me you at least slept in a real bed occasionally?” Enjolras shook his head. Grantaire just smiled and waited for the doctors to finish checking him over. He did not listen as they babbled, his brain still fuzzy. When they left, he patted the small space on the bed and Enjolras climbed in. 

 

“Sorry I put you through all this,” Grantaire said softly. Enjolras just shook his head, “It’s not your fault- two crazy people broke in. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should have left work at a reasonable time. Who works till 3:30 am on a Friday night?” 

 

Grantaire just laughed softly, “Someone who lives with an insomniac artist. Because I’ll be awake when you come home and won’t complain if we sleep till noon.” He smiled, wrapping his arms tightly around Enjolras. Despite three weeks of unconsciousness, he felt no need to protest the sleep that was creeping up on him.


End file.
